


You're Joking

by LainaLee



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Parody, inappropriate work relationship, sexy videos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LainaLee/pseuds/LainaLee
Summary: A naughty novelette about Bill Collins's and Catherine de Bourgh's relationship. Elizabeth shares a rumor with Charlotte about what may have been the cause of Ms. de Bourgh's death. Things get worse from there.
Relationships: Colonel Fitzwilliam/Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, William Collins/Anne de Bourgh, William Collins/Lady Catherine de Bourgh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Rumor

**Author's Note:**

> This is from Charlotte's POV with established marriages between Charlotte and Rich Fitzwilliams, and Elizabeth and Fitz Darcy. This story originally appeared as a one-shot on fanfiction.net but was revised and expanded for AO3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth shares a salacious rumor with Charlotte.

Recently I ran into Eliza at a grocery store and we stopped and talked with our full carts in front of us. Her toddler who must have been about fourteen months at the time was sitting in the cart seat, the nylon belt strapping him in, while my two-year-old twin boys were in the red plastic car attached to the cart which I had been lucky enough to snag this time, making car noises ("vroom, vroom") and playing with the black plastic wheel. We chatted about this and that, nothing big, just what our kids were up to and what our plans were for the summer.

Finally, I brought up the recent bad news. "I was really surprised that Catherine de Bourgh died. She always seemed tough as nails, that she would live twice as long as Anne. It was so unexpected."

"True," Elizabeth replied. Then she got an expression on her face, one that I know well. Her eyes were wide while simultaneously her lips pressed together and twisted a little to one side. It was the same way she used to hold her lips shut tight when she would mime twisting a key to lock them, when we were sharing secrets. She looked like she was hesitating as to whether to tell me something.

"What is it Eliza? Come on, spill."

"It is just, I am not sure I should tell you. Fitz might be embarrassed that you knew. It's about my cousin, Bill Collins."

"Now that's a name I haven't heard in a while, not since we visited when we all thought that Anne wouldn't make it. Really, if anyone in that household was going to die, I would have expected it to be Anne. Now I am curious; you've got to tell me."

Eliza leaned closer and said quietly, "Okay, but it had better not go further than you and Rich. I don't want to hear anyone gossiping about it at the funeral. We wouldn't have heard except one of the paramedics is friends with Jane and that person telling Jane is surely a HIPPA violation, but maybe not since Ms. de Borough is dead."

"Go on," I urged. I was eagerly waiting for some salacious detail. The life of a stay-at-home mom may be fulfilling but it leaves me quite gossip deprived.

"Well, it seems that the person who called 911 was Bill Collins."

"That's hardly unusual," I commented, wondering why this was a secret. "He was her butler after all. I mean it is weird that she has a butler, but I guess she liked lording it over everyone that she had live-in staff for her mansion."

"I haven't gotten to the good part, or rather the weird part, yet,” Elizabeth explained, inching a little closer to me and lowering her voice. I could hardly wait to find out what had her taking such precautions.

“When the ambulance arrived, Bill was in her house only wearing a robe and though he had pulled up the covers, Ms. de Bourgh was naked in her bed. According to the autopsy she had a heart attack, and you can just bet what brought that on."

"Ewwww," I said, sounding like one of my kids being asked to try cooked spinach. "I don't think I wanted to know that. Ms. de Bourgh and Mr. Collins might have been a couple! That is so strange." I tried not to visualize the ins and outs of that relationship and failed miserably.

I couldn’t help but ask, "Do you think he really cared about her and is heart-broken now, or do you think it was just part of his job, another duty that no one else was privy to?"

Eliza raised her eyebrows and proclaimed, "I haven't the foggiest idea. Not a clue. But Bill was single and so was she, so I guess it wasn't wrong."

"Maybe he really brightened up her life in that way," I responded, trying to find an upside, a silver lining. "She was probably craving some male attention, her husband's been dead some twenty years."

Eliza shrugged. We speculated for a few more minutes, but she didn’t really have any other details. Soon Elizabeth's toddler started to fuss, and my little ones began complaining and asking for their apple juice, and we had to continue on our way.


	2. Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte works hard to keep from laughing during Ms. de Bourgh's funeral when Bill Collins delivers a eulogy and she hears a double meaning in everything he says.

Ms. de Bourgh’s funeral was held on the following Saturday. Everyone I saw there was better dressed to this funeral than any prior funeral I had ever attended. I suppose we all imagined Ms. de Bourgh looking down her nose on us if we didn’t dress well.

Everyone was appropriately solemn, and the few words exchanged before the formal funeral began were respectful. No one ever speaks ill of the dead on an occasion such as this.

I tried my best to focus my thoughts on the sadness of the occasion, how Anne had lost her mother, and Rich and Fitz their aunt. As if by mutual agreement, Eliza and I did not exchange greetings, but I was well aware that she was sitting just a row up from me, a few seats to the side. However, even so, at times laughter still tried to bubble up and I had to avoid looking at Eliza for fear even that might set off giggles.

Bill Collins was one of the mourners that got up and spoke. He was well dressed in a dark navy suit with a crisp white shirt and a navy and grey stripped tie, although I noticed that as he climbed the steps to the podium that his belly strained at his suit coat’s golden buttons. Additionally, the greying ruff of hair around his bald head could have used a trim.

Bill spent a full five minutes praising the minister’s message and the previous mourners’ comments, noting specifically, “Miss Anne de Bourgh has suffered a grave loss indeed. But no one deprived of the sun that Ms. de Bourgh shined into all our lives could be anything but miserable with its absence. It is most painful indeed, to have the sun vanish forever more.”

Next, Bill waxed on eloquently about what a fine person his employer was, concluding with "Ms. de Bourgh always provided a wonderful example of what people of consequence should be like. It was the highest honor to be in her employ, to support her vision in every way."

Bill then spoke in excruciatingly minute detail about his cleaning duties at the mansion, including the exacting methods Ms. de Bourgh insisted on for polishing the silver, vacuuming, mopping, dusting and so much more. I cannot recall it all, nor would I wish to do so.

However, I remember that Bill told us how she insisted the polishing compound be rubbed on in a clockwise motion and removed in a counterclockwise motion, explaining further: “Ms. de Bourgh insisted on tiny circles, wanted me to just use one gloved finger on the smaller pieces.” He extended his pointer finger in demonstration of the tiny movement which was barely visible to me from the third row.

Bill also explained, “When dusting the chandeliers—Rosings has fifteen chandeliers in all, the largest being in the ballroom, the smallest in the guest bathroom near the center stairs—Ms. de Bourgh insisted that I carefully swirl the feather duster just so.” He clenched his fist and rotated his wrist, his second knuckle pointing out, turning in place upon an invisible spot. “Nothing was beneath her notice.”

Bill’s final words before he broke down crying and had to leave the dais were, "Ms. de Bourgh was a great lady, one of a kind. She had a certain way that she wanted everything done and I did my best to do everything exactly how she wanted it, no matter how long it took to do it right."

It was hard to listen to Bill giving my previous knowledge without interpreting his every word as salacious. I had to keep biting my tongue to keep my face suitably impassive, but still my lips began to quirk up every so often and then I had to bite down harder again.

Rich kept looking over at me, knowing something was wrong. I hadn’t told him what Eliza had told me in the grocery store about his aunt. It seemed unreal, like some elaborate practical joke, even though I’d never know Eliza to try to trick people like that. Something like that would have been more Lydia’s style, but she would have laughed at her own joke and spoiled it before the day was through.

Even as the rest of the mourners spoke, including Ms. de Bourgh’s personal maid Dawson, who seemed very broken up, I could not focus on their words. Instead, my dirty mind was still reviewing what Bill Collins had said. It made the logical leap that Ms. de Bourgh must have dictated Bill’s exact actions when they shared a bed.

I could hear her imperious voice ordering him around. Perhaps just as Mr. Miyagi had taught Daniel in the _Karate Kid_ how to fight by painting his fence and polishing his car, Ms. de Bourgh had taught Bill how to pleasure her with the motions he perfected by polishing the silver and dusting.

The very thought turned my stomach. In theory, I certainly believe that consenting adults of all ages should be free to enjoy sex with whomever they wish. However, the combination of Mr. Collins and Ms. de Bourgh was quite distasteful.

They say that everyone is lustful after a funeral. I believe the explanation being something about sex affirming that we are still alive. That night when Rich pulled me close and kissed me in a way that seemed like it might be a prelude to sex, I stayed passive, stiff. The idea of intimacy with such thoughts still stuck in my head . . . I just couldn’t focus on him enough to forget.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, loosening his hold on me and gently rubbing my back.

“Besides your aunt being dead?” I countered.

“I know you never really cared for her,” Rich noted. I didn’t deny that. She had never thought me worthy of her nephew. I remembered overhearing, “That Miss Lucas might do for someone like Mr. Collins, but my boy she is beneath you.”

But it seemed that now was the time to explain. I told Rich about what Eliza had heard and then my suppositions during the funeral.

He listened calmly and responded, “That’s awfully farfetched, don’t you think? Maybe my aunt was just one of those people who sleep in the nude.”

“Maybe?” I was not convinced. “I can’t imagine her being that free. She was awfully stiff and buttoned up about everything. Although I suppose thinking she had sex with her butler means she was freer than I think. Still, whatever the truth may be, now that the thought of it is in my head, I can’t unthink it.”

While the thought apparently did not deter him, when Rich inched closer to me again, I told him, “I just want to sleep.” Rich respected my wishes and within the hour he was asleep. Me, on the other hand, I kept trying to get comfortable, on my back, side, stomach. Nothing seemed to work.

When I finally did drift off, I was heavily asleep. My dreams of running from some unknown pursuer changed when I saw that it was Rich seeking me out. He kissed me and touched me, and I began to burn for him, grew wet and needy, brimming with desire.

I awoke to find Rich touching me. We were both so very ready. He rolled a top me and I helped to align him. As he sank into me, I suddenly remembered, “I didn’t put in my diaphragm last night.”

“Should I stop?” he paused while pressed all the way in, one hand teasing my nipple to a point. “What are the chances? Aren’t we about ready for another one?”

We had talked on and off about trying for another child. We both hoped to one day have a daughter, had talked about having three or four children, well-spaced out, but given that our twins were fraternal I was a bit afraid that we might have another set of twins and had been hesitant to try again before they were in school.

“Okay,” I consented, pulling his head toward me. Rich rewarded me with a searing kiss that made what we were doing even better.

Perhaps in the midst of things was not the best time to make a potentially life-altering decision, but my mind was mussy with sleep and lust. I gave myself over to the most delicious sensations, wrapped my legs around him, grabbed at his back


	3. Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family and friends assemble to see the new gravestone, Anne gives Rich a laptop for him to clean up and Rich discovers some disturbing content on it.

It took two months for Ms. de Bourgh’s gravestone to prepared and then set in the de Bourgh family plot. The family and her close friends gathered to view the stone together on her birthday a week later, which by happenstance fell on a warm spring day. As prearranged, we had each brought flowers to lay upon the grave in turn.

Anne went first, bringing a basket filled with pink roses. She seemed frail and sad as she glided her hand over the stone and said something too quiet to be heard. As Rich and I grew closer, several people were in front of us, waiting for their turn.

I took the time to study Mr. de Bourgh’s marker. His stone was simple, black polished granite with flecks of lighter grey which rose perhaps two and one half feet and read, “Lewis Michael de Bourgh” a skipped line and then in a smaller font, “Beloved husband, father and son” another skipped line and then his dates below, with a simple outline of a cross on the stone.

I had earlier observed that while Ms. de Bourgh’s marker was not any taller and appeared to be made out of a similar material, it had wings outstretched on either side of the stone, as if a stone angel was entombed within the stone and only its wings could escape. However, it was not until Eliza and Fitz moved out of the way, that I was able to examine her gravestone in detail.

Her name was in the exact same part of the stone as her husband’s in a matching font: “Catherine Louise de Bourgh.” However, there the similarities ended. Beneath her name was list of her connections: “Descendent of Presidents George Washington, John Adams and John Quincy Adams, and Suffragists Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Harriot Stanton Blatch, Wife to Louis de Bourgh, Mother of Anne Elizabeth de Bourgh, Founder of Rosings Pet Rescue, Diamond Level Patroness of the Hunsford Symphony, and Employer to more than one-hundred souls.” Then her dates were tucked at the bottom of the stone, barely visible above the closely cut grass.

I wondered who had designed her gravestone. I had a feeling that Ms. de Bourgh must have decreed how it would read herself.

After we laid our flowers down (there was barely room with all the previous offerings), we stood off to the side, waiting for an opportunity to offer our condolences to Anne again. I noticed that the last person to visit Ms. de Bourgh’s stone, even after Dawson who was wearing an overly-formal polka dot dress, was Bill Collins.

Bill brought two bouquet of large red long-stemmed roses and placed one on each side of the stone itself. Then he kissed the top of the stone and then lovingly ran his pudgy hands over the carved letters, seeming to linger on the word “employer.” He pulled an old-fashioned cloth hanky from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes.

Anne, after speaking to Eliza and Fitz for a few moments, circled around to Bill. He was still touching the gravestone. When he saw her, he straightened up. Anne reached toward him with outstretched arms and gave him a hug. It was she who led him away, as if he were the one mourning rather than she.

Later, as we were preparing to leave (our sitter had another engagement and we needed to return by three), Anne stopped us. “Rich, I brought the laptop. Let’s go to my car and I’ll get it out for you. I really appreciate your help with this.”

We followed Anne to her car, a white Rolls-Royce Phantom which had belonged to her mother. She pressed the button to release the trunk and took out an olive-green leather laptop bag which I estimated had cost several hundred dollars and would put many purses to shame. Rich accepted it, she shut the trunk and hurried away.

As we drove home, I asked Rich, “What was that all about?”

He explained, “Anne wants to give some of her mother’s personal items to her staff, but she doesn’t want to accidentally give any photos away. Anne asked if I could look through her mother’s laptop and save anything she might want before deleting the hard drive and resetting it to factory settings. She says it is just too hard emotionally for her to do it now, and she trusts me.”

I didn’t think much more about the matter. However, the following weekend, Rich sought me out while I was cooking dinner. I was chopping some vegetables for a stir fry. The boys were in the room beyond, occupied by watching a DVD of Curious George. I could hear his monkey sounds.

Rich asked in a strained voice, “Can you leave that for a while? I really need you to see something.”

“Okay.” I followed him back to our study (which was in our third bedroom) and he locked the door behind me.

That worried me a little. I turned to look at him and noticed that his sandy hair was disheveled, pieces coming forward, the top jutting in every direction. He must have been raking his fingers through it, which he only did when he was very distressed. A laptop was open on the desk.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I think I found something bad, but I’m not sure. I couldn’t really look.” Rich made a sweeping gesture with one hand in the general direction of the desk. “Could you look for me?”

I walked over to the desk and seated myself. I saw that a video player was up on the screen. There were the little frames of videos along one side, with one video larger on the screen, perhaps four inches by three as if it were cued up. The label below it read: “Episode One.” This video showed something pinkish/reddish, roughly cylindrical and curving just a bit to the right against a light background, although I could see neither end, nor get a sense of its scale.

“Is that what it looks like?” I wondered aloud. “Are you thinking that’s Bill Collins’s cock?”

Rich made some kind of a verbalized groan/moan, and then pulled his lips back in a grimace and squeezed his eyelids tight, but not completely closed. His expression resembled someone who had eaten something sour. “Don’t say it! Just find out if it is.”

“I don’t want to see that, either!” I replied. But even as I was saying that I was seating myself and preparing to click the play button out of a morbid sense of curiosity. How could I not want to know?

For a moment it looked like nothing was happening, and then some Salsa music started playing and words slowly scrolled up the screen: “Handling Your Sausage.” I was just about to read that to Rich when a voice over began.

“I’m Sexy Mama Hottie and today’s episode is handling your sausage.” I recognized the voice as sounding similar to Catherine de Bourgh’s but if it were her, she was speaking in a far more sensual tone than I had ever heard before. Then the camera pulled back and I could see that the object on the screen was indeed a sausage, not a man’s appendage.

I breathed a little sigh of relief and lowered my hand from the mouse. I had been hovering the cursor arrow, preparing to hit pause.

A woman’s hand, with pale pink nail polish moved into view, then the camera panned back and the hand picked up the sausage. “Cured choriso should be firm to the touch,” the hand squeezed the sausage to demonstrate. “You may also find it in semi-cured, which will have more give,” the hand set down the sausage next to two other sausages and massaged the sausage in the middle, “or raw.” A finger pushed on the final sausage, leaving a little indent in the casing.

I heard from behind me, “Is that a cooking show?”

I glanced over my shoulder. My husband’s eyes were now completely closed, his eyelids squeezed tight as if to assure him that they would not spontaneously fly open.

“I think so,” I said cautiously, turning back to view the screen.

Now I could see part of Ms. de Bourgh’s face. She was wearing a mask, like someone might wear at a fancy costume ball covering her eyes. It was made of feathers that had been dyed in reds and yellows. But still, I was pretty sure it was her. But I barely noticed that, because she was in the process of licking the outside of the cured choriso and then giving it a bite.

I was about to clarify what I was now seeing on the screen, but before I could I heard an “ugh” from Rich. “What is she doing?” he asked.

“Well, at least she isn’t deep throating it,” I responded.

The video was like nothing I had ever seen before. While there were occasionally suggestive word choices, Ms. de Bourgh narrated the variations between the kinds of choriso, including comparing the spices used in Mexican and Spanish choriso with a kind of dogged efficiency, before going on to discuss other sausages the world over. Anything that was cured, however, made it into her mouth in an increasingly sensual manner. She licked and nibbled the sausages as if she couldn’t get enough.

The “ohhhh” “yum” “delicioso” “mmmm” “que rico” “ohhh yeah” and various moans and verbalizations seemed more appropriate to a bedroom than a cooking show. I was reminded of when my mother and Mrs. Bennet made me watch _When Harry Met Sally_ with them. I didn’t remember the movie well except for just one scene which had shocked me, when Sally faked an orgasm in a sandwich shop. I was perhaps fourteen and terribly embarrassed.

Ms. de Bourgh’s video was only about ten minutes long and near the end she demonstrated how to fill a casing with the sausage attachment on a mixer’s power hub. Her hands caressed that sausage in a manner that was downright erotic.

At the end, Ms. de Bourgh said, “I’ve had a lovely time and I hope you have, too. Remember, don’t be afraid of sausages. If you are not ready to stuff your own sausage, you can always start by simply picking up a sausage in the grocery store. For any cook, they can be the start of a delicious meal and even if you don’t cook, a cured sausage can make for a protein rich snack.” 

I stopped the next video which was cuing up automatically and turned around to look at Rich. “What genre is that?” I asked without expecting an answer, “Some kind of erotic cooking show?” And then something else occurred to me, “Who was manning that camera? Who came up with the script? Are the videos all like that?”

“I don’t want to know,” he moaned, scrapping his hand through his hair again. “Thinking of my aunt doing that . . . it is going to give me nightmares.”

“Well, it is not as bad as a sex tape,” I responded. “Do you think she posted them online?” My curiosity was piqued.

That thought had apparently not occurred to him. As for me, I immediately started looking at her bookmarks on her browsers and soon I found a You Tube channel that was still signed in for SexyMamaHottieCooks4You. I scrolled through and found some fifty episodes. But what was even more surprising to me was how many hits she had for her channel.

Rich was looking over my shoulder, “One million twenty-nine thousand hits? Three hundred seventy-two thousand subscribers?”

“Do you think Anne has any idea that her mom is a You Tube star?” I looked back over at Rick. He looked pasty, like he might be sick.

“I . . . I can’t imagine talking to her about something like this.”

“I can text her about it,” I offered.

Rich flopped down in chair and rubbed his face and eyes, as if he could clean them of what he had seen. “Okay,” he allowed.

I texted right away, very curious about what her response might be.

Charlotte: _Hi Anne, we came across something on your mom’s laptop that I wanted to ask you about. She has a whole bunch of videos and they are up on a You Tube channel, too._

Anne: _Yeah, that’s right. Aren’t they a hoot? She didn’t really want anyone to know about her cooking show, because she thought they would hurt her reputation. It was so much fun writing her scripts!_

Charlotte: _You wrote them?_

Anne: _You bet! Of course, Bill helped too._

“Rich,” I declared, “Anne knows all about the videos. She wrote the scripts for them!”

Rich sat up, a little bit of color returning to his face. “I think . . . yes . . . that makes me feel a little better.”

Anne: _I think Mom had an episode or two still in progress. Please ask Rich not to delete anything. Maybe he can just store the laptop for a while. I want to at least make a farewell episode for her but I’m not ready to deal with any of that now._

Charlotte: _(thumbs up)_

I told Rich, “Anne asks that you keep the laptop as is and store it for her until she is ready to work on the videos again. She wants to post a farewell episode.”

Another message popped up and I read it to him, “She says, ‘The fans must be wondering why Mom hasn’t posted anything in a while. I guess it is up to me and Bill to get one out, eventually.” I didn’t tell Rich, but that day after I was done cooking dinner, I subscribed to SexyMamaHottieCooks4You.

I hid in the bathroom right afterwards and watched another episode. That episode had her making various salsas and dips. This time she was concealed by a red leather mask.

When she chopped the tomatoes, onion and jalapeno, she leaned forward. Her apron hit right across her chest and her neckline dipped below that. It wasn’t really anything indecent, but it was a bit suggestive. I had never really noticed before, but Ms. de Bourgh had a nice figure for someone her age and had very few wrinkles on her neck and around her mouth.

The most sensuous part of the episode was when she dipped a chip in each bowl and sampled what she had prepared. She moaned with each taste, often, seemingly deliberately dripping just a bit of whatever onto her lips or chin. Then she would use a finger to scoop it up. Sometimes she licked that finger, other times she popped it into her mouth.

Once, a drip of cheese dip fell into her cleavage and she dipped a perfectly polished nail in between her breasts to get it out. I am not attracted to women, so this wasn’t doing anything in particular for me, but it occurred to me to think about all the men watching her and what they might be thinking.

Perhaps there was something wrong with me, but the thought of all those men watching her made me feel amorous. That night, when Rich and I were alone in bed that night, the boys hopefully down for the night, I wrapped my arms around him and leaned into him to kiss him. Normally Rich is the pursuer, but he has always said he likes it when I make a move on him.

But not that night. He gave me a chaste peck and said, “I’m not in the mood. Seeing that video of my aunt, it just turns my stomach.” I had to respect that, but it did take me a long time to fall asleep. 

The next day when Rich was at work and I had gotten the boys down for a nap, I called Eliza up. Lots of times she is too busy to answer, but fortunately this time she picked up right away.

“What’s up Charlotte?” she asked.

“I just found out the most unbelievable thing about Ms. de Bourgh,” I told her, trying to stick to a serious tone but unable to avoid a bit of glee in my voice.”

“Is it something new about her and Bill?” She asked.

“Well, not exactly, but trust me, you need to see it to believe it. I’m going to send you a link to her You Tube channel.” I pulled up my text messages and hit the “send” button on a pre-prepared text with the link.

“Okay, got it. Are you sure you sent me the right thing? Who is this SexyMamaHottieCooks4You?”

“No, that’s right. The star of the show is Ms. de Bourgh. Can you watch it now?”

“Uh-huh. It’s not porn, is it? There are just some things I don’t want to see.”

“I worried about the same thing, but it is not. I won’t lie to you, though, it is pretty disturbing. Just, you need watch it. Watch it right now and then call me back, okay?”

“Okay.”

The ten minutes or so it should have taken her to watch the episode seemed like the longest ten minutes of my life. I tried to fill it by putting a load of clothes in the dryer, starting another load in the washing machine and wiping down the counters. That only took me about seven minutes. Then I started cleaning the bathroom counter and mirror. I kept checking my phone to see what time it was.

It actually took her about thirteen minutes to call me back. Rather than doing chores I should have just watched the episode and then I would have known when she was done.

Eliza rang when I had just started cleaning the inside of the microwave and I happily abandoned the cooked on grime to find out her thoughts, picking up on the first ring, pacing as I waited to hear her opinion.

Elizabeth didn’t bother with any greetings. “What the hell was that Charlotte? And how can it be that popular?”

“I don’t know, but I have to admit I’ve already watched several. It is like rubber necking at a traffic accident. You know you shouldn’t, but you are curious.”

I told her all about how we had discovered the videos and what Anne had told me about them. When we had talked for a while Eliza brough up a good point, “Do you think that Anne would mind that you told me, and would she mind having Fitz know?”

“She didn’t tell me to keep it quiet. She said her mother was worried about her reputation.”

“Okay,” Eliza seemed a bit mollified, “maybe we should keep it between the four of us. I have to tell Fitz. Maybe you can sound Anne out as far as whether it is okay to discuss it further? I don’t want to be disrespectful of her mother’s wishes.”

“Okay.” I told her. Then I shared with her a thought that had occurred to me that morning, “I can’t help but think it might have been listed on her gravestone, but there wasn’t any more room.”

“Can you imagine if everyone knew she was, what was it, Sexy Mama something?”

“Sexy Mama Hottie,” I automatically corrected.

Eliza continued, “Maybe people, probably dirty old men, would make a pilgrimage to visit her grave, like they do for famous musicians, like Jimi Hendrix.”

That thought was in my mind that night. I imagined men coming to visit my grave and then I imagined them watching me eating chips and salsa sexily and desiring me. Again, it awakened something in me, but once again, Rich just wasn’t in the mood.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth shows Charlotte a wedding invitation and Charlotte and Rich disbelieve the content. Once they accept it is true, Rich worries about what this means for Anne.

Several months after the funeral, nine in fact, Eliza and all the Darcys came to visit us on a Saturday in mid-October. I had just given birth to a daughter, Emma Jane, two weeks before and was feeling ready for visitors.

I wished to show Emma off. Even as a newborn, she was an unusually pretty child, even more beautiful than Jaxon Darcy who is plenty cute with his dark curls and beatific smile. Emma was born with soft white-blonde hair and delicate features that seemed almost impossible to be derived from Rich or me.

Although my boys are very dear to me, even I know they will never be handsome. They have the sort of cuteness that all children have, but in them it is a cute-ugly. They are both blond with the sort of hair that eventually will probably darken to match Rich’s sandy shade, rather than my light hair. Mitch has nice blue eyes, but he also has ears that stick out, and a wide, thin mouth. Michael has proportional ears and a nice mouth, but he also has a pig-nose and close-set brown eyes. There was never any doubt that they were not identical.

But what should we have expected? Mitch looks a lot like me, and Michael looks a lot like Rich. Emma, Emma has somehow gotten whatever beauty we had to give.

Given that I had faithfully gone back to using my diaphragm after that one morning interlude, Rich and I knew exactly when Emma was conceived. When I got the two lines on the stick, he had been so excited, “Right on! Awesome!” while pumping his fist. It seemed to me that he walked around for weeks afterwards sticking out his chest with pride.

As for me, I had spent the first few weeks of my pregnancy wondering just what we had done. While I knew the chances were low, I feared I might be having twins again. But once an early ultrasound determined it was just one baby, I was able to enjoy the pregnancy.

Rich wanted to tell everyone right away, much to my dismay, but agreed to keep quiet through that all important first trimester. When we were ready to tell Elizabeth and Fitz, we invited the Darcys over for pizza. While the boys were “driving” their matchbox cars around and around the track (which was simply our round breakfast table with the chairs removed), Fitz said, “I have some news. Charlotte is expecting again, in October.”

Eliza turned to me, “That’s great! I didn’t know you were trying again. Why didn’t you tell me?” I knew they had been trying for their second for a few months, had tried for two years before getting Jaxon.

“We weren’t exactly.”

Rich chimed in, “One shot and done. I have the most excellent swimmers!” He smiled and nodded, obviously well pleased with himself.

Fitz replied, perhaps a little consciously, “Where’s the fun in that? Trying is half the fun.” He had then stared at Eliza with a lascivious look that had her blushing.

As I didn’t want to rub Elizabeth’s nose in the fact that I was expecting when she wasn’t, I tried not to talk to her much about the pregnancy, but she was really great about asking me how everything was going with it. When I told her about my appointment for the twenty-week ultrasound, which would hopefully let us find out the gender, she insisted, “You have to call me right away when you find out.”

“Of course,” I told her.

At the ultrasound, fortunately our daughter was not shy. “See those three lines?” the tech gestured. “That means you are having a girl.”

Rich said, “I knew it! You put in the request for a daughter and my sea-men delivered!” I was a bit embarrassed that he would say something like that in front of the tech, but what followed was worse.

On our way home, I put Eliza on speaker phone and told her the good news. She was thrilled for us and naturally enough the conversation turned toward possible names. I told her, “We really haven’t discussed names yet. It seemed too early before we knew whether we needed to be looking at boy or girl names, but I have some ideas.”

Rich chimed in, “I have the perfect name. Elizabeth, don’t you think we ought to name our baby Catherine, in honor of when she was conceived?”

I knew Rich liked to tease, but that was just too much, especially while Eliza was on the phone! I was so shocked that I didn’t say anything for a few moments. Eliza must have been similarly flummoxed as she was silent, too, before finally asking, “She’s a post-funeral baby?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a term, but it fit to be sure. “Yeah,” I admitted and then told Rich, “There is no way we are naming her Catherine.”

“Come on, it’s a nice name.” I was pretty sure that Rich was not in earnest, but still, I couldn’t believe he was ruining the occasion of finding out we were having a girl with his joke.

The whole rest of the pregnancy, occasionally he would return to suggesting that name. I used to get so mad about it, while Rich just laughed. There was just no way and it really annoyed me that my loving husband was enjoying getting a rise out of me.

Even when our daughter was born, Rich joked about it one last time when the forms were brought to me to fill out her name. While I took a sip of juice, he snatched the forms from me and mimed filling out a line, saying aloud, “Catherine Hottie Fitzwilliam.” Oh, it was maddening!

When the Darcys visited, Eliza brought the cutest little pink onesie for Emma which had an attached fluffy ballerina skirt. Eliza also brought puzzles for the boys. Mitch and Michael had excitedly opened the boxes, but then cast them aside in favor of playing with Jaxon. Rich and Fitz volunteered to take the boys outside so we could have our girl-time.

After a few minutes of the normal chit-chat as I nursed Emma, Eliza got the same look in her eye as she had in the grocery store and the accompanying squeezing of her lips that meant she had a secret. "Tell me," I demanded and waited as my daughter half-heartedly continued to suckle at my breast while sleeping.

"Have you gotten your mail yet today?”

“No,” I responded. Elizabeth never asks about my mail. No one does, not unless someone is checking to see if I received something they sent. “What should I be expecting from you?”

“Nothing, but you should be watching your mail. I suspect yours will arrive in the mail today or perhaps Monday; maybe later if they are preparing them in batches. The thing is, I just got an invitation to Anne de Bourgh's and Bill Collins's wedding."

I chuckled, then exclaimed. "That's got to be a joke!" My nipple burst out of Emma’s mouth, but fortunately she continued to sleep, her little mouth now working at nothing. I straightened the nursing pad and latched up my bra; Eliza ignored the whole thing.

After I had pulled myself together, I asked, “Seriously, why would you joke about something like that?”

Eliza laughed a bit herself and I thought I was right, that she had been teasing me. I mean, what were the odds that something like that could be real? But then I noticed that there was a nervous, awkward quality to her laugh which was pitched rather high in tone. She unzipped a pocket in her large purse and pulled out the edge of an envelope, lifting the flap to remove the invitation which she then held out to me.

It was a single sheet so easy enough to read the names. There it was in black and white:

_Anne Elizabeth de Bourgh and William Stephen Collins_

_Invite you with great pleasure to celebrate their marriage . . ._

I thought for a minute as to what to say regarding the situation and then said in my most diplomatic voice, "Well, I hope they will be very happy.” Then I couldn’t leave well enough alone, and added, “Hopefully, Anne’s mother trained him well."

We both burst out laughing at that. We laughed so hard that I wet myself a little and this just caused me to laugh harder, until tears were squeezed out of my eyes.

I laughed so vigorously that I woke up Emma, who looked up at me with her dark, cross eyes, apparently pondering whether to cry or attempt to sleep some more. I pulled Emma a little more tightly against me and did my best not to shake with my now silent laughter, biting my lip to keep it from issuing forth and disturbing Emma further. Fortunately, her eyes drifted closed once again.

Rich stopped in to ask, “Can I get you a glass of water, Charlotte?” I was generally quite thirsty after nursing, but always forgot to stow a full glass of water or a filled water bottle nearby.

“Yes, please,” I replied, pleasantly surprised that he had thought to ask when occupied with the children (I later learned he had been in the kitchen making snacks for the children, and in pulling out the sippy cups to fix their drinks had thought of me).

Rich took a moment to take in the scene, which must have included the tears still wet upon my cheeks as he pointed a finger at Elizabeth and asked, "What did you do to make my wife cry?"

“I . . . made . . . her . . . laugh,” Eliza choked out, evidently trying not to laugh anymore herself. Then she held out the invitation to him.

Rich snatched the card from her hand, bending it in the process and declared, “This must be a fake. We didn’t get one. Someone is playing a joke. It is impossible! Tell me it isn’t true.” His voice sounded angry rather than amused.

As he spoke, he waved the card around and I smelled a rather cloying scent which must have been sprayed upon the card. I recognized the odor. It was a musk perfume that Ms. de Bourgh favored that was just too intense and overdone. Perhaps Anne hadn’t wanted to waste it and had applied it to the cards. I couldn’t really conceive of the card manufacturer using that scent.

I shrugged as well as I could while holding our daughter. I deliberately did not mention the odor; he didn’t seem to notice it, so why should I draw it to his attention? It could only serve to inflame my husband further.

“It is quite real as far as I know,” Eliza declared. She grabbed the envelop out of her purse and held it out to him. I saw for myself that the address was written in Anne’s own hand and the postmark was from Hunsford.

Rich’s eyes grew wide as he shook his head side to side in a disbelieving, non-verbal “no.” He finally handed the invitation back to Eliza, who had to straighten it before it would fit back in the envelop.

Rich sat himself down next to me, but showed no signs of relaxing, jangling his legs. “Bill wouldn’t. It is just wrong on so many levels.”

Apparently unable to sit still, he stood up again, “I’ve got to go talk to him, get him to call the whole thing off.” Rich paced back and forth as he talked.

“Rich, come sit back down and let’s talk this through,” I entreated. He stopped his pacing but did not sit. “There is no need to be hasty. It really isn’t your place to interfere. Anne’s what, thirty-one or thirty-two? She surely knows her own mind.”

Although Rich had always declared the idea of an affair between his aunt and Bill to be impossible, evidently at some point his opinion had switched to being certain it was true as he asked the two of us, "What if my cousin doesn't know? Should Anne really be marrying someone that was with her mother in that way? I’ve got to talk to Fitz about this."

I responded, “She is not as naïve as you seem to think. Remember, Anne helped with the cooking videos. And we don’t know anything for certain; it is all supposition.”

“She isn’t your cousin,” Rich said in a cold voice. “Fitz and I have always been like her brothers. We have a duty towards her that you can’t really understand.”

I didn’t like being put in my place, but I also knew that Rich was upset and not being his usual, lighthearted self. I even agreed with him to an extent; I had only known Anne a few years. What was that compared to a lifetime of being family? At the same time, I was feeling peeved that my opinion was being dismissed so easily by him. I kept silent while I thought about what to say.

Finally, I turned to Eliza and asked, “How did Fitz take all of this?”

Elizabeth’s eyes swept to Rich, “Better than your husband. He is worried, of course, but hasn’t decided when or if he should do something about it. The wedding is not for more than two months, on New Year’s Eve, so I guess he thinks there is time.”

“Damn!” Rich swore, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened. “No one gets married these days without having done the deed. It is already too late to save her from him. But still, it is worse to marry your mother’s lover than to just sleep with him.”

“Perhaps you and Fitz ought to talk the whole thing over,” Eliza suggested. “He wants to discuss it with you, but this isn’t exactly something to talk about in front of the children.”

Rich’s eyes flicked to Emma, “Good thing she can’t understand English yet.” He took a deep breath and seemed to settle a little. “I could tell something was off with Fitz today, but he didn’t give me even so much as a hint.”

Seeing an opportunity to be helpful, I offered, “If you can take Emma, we can see about relieving Fitz so you two can talk. If that’s okay with you Eliza.”

“Sure,” she responded. Rich just seated himself beside me and held out his hands for Emma; I carefully turned and deposited her into his hands. We all paused as the transfer was made. Aside from a slight wiggle, she showed no signs of waking.

“Finish up fixing their snack, would you?” Rich asked.

“Of course.”

I went to the kitchen while Eliza went outside to where Fitz and the boys were. I noted that Rich had left the kitchen in quite a state of disarray just for making apple slices with peanut butter. There were apples cores here and there, peanut butter splattered on the floor (how did he do that?) and globs of peanut butter on the side of the jar. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to finish preparing the snack and clean up. Then, as I filled each sippy cup with chocolate milk, I called our black lab over to lick up the spills.

When I came outside, the boys were busy playing some came involving sticks and the fallen leaves. Eliza seemed a bit overwhelmed. “It is a lot different trying to keep track of three,” she commented.

I shrugged; I had never had the luxury of only one. “I could have brought Emma out here as well, but I thought that with her in Rich’s lap that it might keep him from getting too agitated.” As we ran around with the children, it occurred to me that I’d forgotten to fix and drink my glass of water. 

After the Darcys left, Rich and I were busy with the children the whole rest of the evening. There was dinner to prepare, nursing and changing Emma again and the boys’ whole bedtime routine. So, there was no time to talk at all until we went to bed to catch the hour or two of sleep available before Emma would demand to be fed again.

In the dark, Richard summarized for me what he discussed with Fitz. He concluded, "We decided not to say anything to Anne as all we know is rumor and innuendo. It's entirely possible that Aunt Catherine simply liked to sleep in the nude and perhaps Bill Collins just went in to check on her. Fitz also mentioned the possibility that the paramedic was making a joke in poor taste."

Although I was glad that Fitz had talked Rich down, it was a bit annoying that he would listen to his cousin over me.


	5. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte attends Anne's lingerie shower and then later Charlotte and Rich attend Anne's wedding to Bill.

I had long ago finished watching each of the SexyMamaHottieCooks4You videos, but after I had learned that Bill and Anne were engaged, I began to watch them again. This time, I watched one a day (to make them last longer). Sometimes I would watch the same video multiple times, looking for small imperfections. It is amazing what you can pick up on, when you do that sort of thing

On the smoothie video, in which Ms. de Bourgh was artfully disguised in a yellow bird mask with a pointed beak (which reviewers kept referring to as her Big Bird mask), she dipped a finger into a green concoction and then licked her finger. But apparently the smoothie was a little runnier than Ms. de Bourgh was expecting as a long drop slid down the back of her hand and another landed right on the collar of her blouse.

The first time I saw that scene, I was focused on the visuals. The second time I watched it, I heard a little snort which sounded familiar. I was almost certain that must have come from Bill Collins, which meant that he was there, watching things. While that of course was not so odd, Anne had said he had helped with scripts, I had never pictured him watching the filming. Instead I had imagined Anne working the camera while all the staff was out.

On another video called “Cooling things Down,” Mrs. de Bourgh made popsicles and ice cream. While Ms. de Bourgh was deep-throating a very lucky lime popsicle (which had chunks of fruit frozen in it, including a maraschino cherry imbedded in its tip), I heard that same snort.

I wondered, _If he was doing Ms. de Bourgh, would Bill really snort rather than sigh or groan?_ But I was also familiar with the idea that some people made inappropriate sounds even during sex. If someone was the sort to do that, it would have to be Bill.

At the beginning of December, I received an invitation to Anne’s bridal shower, which was being hosted by Julia Fitzwilliams, Rich’s mother. Julia explained that it was a lingerie shower, noting Anne’s sizes. If I had to guess, I would have thought she was a 34B, rather than a 34C. I suppose made sense for it to be a lingerie shower as Anne probably had every fancy kitchen appliance on the planet.

Anne and I weren’t close, but as I told Rich that night, “I really think I ought to go even if the whole thing might be awkward. Your mom is clearly determined to get me there, as she even told me that I could bring Emma.”

“Yes, you ought to.” Rich told me, with a certain amused gleam in his eye. “Take one for the team. Thank goodness it isn’t a ‘Jack and Jill’ party, or worse yet a his and hers lingerie shower.” While I had never been to a coed shower for anything other than kitchen and houseware items, I took a moment to imagine Bill waxing eloquent over a bustier paired with a thong. Then I imagined having to buy underwear for him.

I remembered, once, visiting a sex shop and seeing jokey underwear for guys. One was an alligator where the man’s dick went into an alligator’s face and upper jaw, his balls into the lower jaw, it was string up the back and then there was a stuffed alligator tail which just covered the back door. Another was shaped like a banana, with the fruit covering his cock and the peel covering the rest. A third was shaped like a carrot.

I had bought Rich the carrot. He was not amused and never wore it, not once. I don’t think he ever even removed the tag or cardboard insert which showed off something of how it would look with a dick inside.

I mock-punched Rich. “Do we still have your carrot underwear? I think maybe I should give that to Anne for Bill.”

Rich’s face took on a horrified expression for half a second until he forced out a laugh. “Sorry Charlotte,” his face was not sorry in the least, “I am pretty sure I donated that to charity when the church was having that used clothing drive for the homeless.”

I took a moment to imagine some homeless guy getting the carrot thong and burst out laughing for real. Then, I responded, “What a waste of my fifteen bucks.” Not wanting to think about a homeless guy flopping his carrot around any longer, I changed the subject back to the shower.

“Yeah, you may be getting out of this one, mister, but we will be going to the wedding and dancing at the reception a long time. Don’t expect us to be ducking out early.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rich grabbed my hand, bent his head, and planted a sloppy kiss to the back of my hand.

The lingerie shower wasn’t too bad. There were just Julia, Eliza, Dawson, a couple of friends of Anne that I didn’t know and me. As Julia was hosting, it was at her house and all the food was catered. There was smoked salmon, caviar, brie, and other fancy eats, a variety of pastries and lovely fresh fruit, including pineapple and kiwis. We munched for a while before getting down to a couple of party games.

Anne insisted on holding Emma while we played the games. Fortunately for her, Emma was in a post-milk haze as I had arrived early to Julia’s home to feed the baby while Julia was still setting up (well, more like directing other people how everything should be set up), retreating to Rich’s old room to nurse. Then I had changed Emma of course. She is the pooping wonder, but she is my pooping wonder.

There was a quiz to see who knew Anne the best (Eliza won that) and a short mad-lib style fill-in-the-blank story. Julia explained, before she read the finished product, “Anne has confided in me, but also said it isn’t a secret, that she really wants a baby and Bill does, too, so I thought it would be fun to have a story made about that.”

I had trouble absorbing that news. Of course, I knew, we all did, that Bill and Anne were going to do “it” even if we didn’t know if they were doing “it” now. But the idea of them trying for a baby, having regular sex for such a purpose, using the lingerie we were just about to gift her . . . ewwww!

I was unable to pay much attention to the story while my head was filled with thoughts of Bill on top of delicate Anne: his belly bouncing with each thrust, his bald head gleaming with sweat, him rubbing his meaty hands all over her (in my imagining she was still wearing the pink silk baby-doll nighty I had bought her), and snorting repeatedly while he shuddered and came. I also worried if frail Anne would really be up for the physical demands pregnancy puts on a woman’s body.

So, after Julia was done reading, I asked her for a copy of the story to take home to show Rich. But really it was about wanting to see what it said. It went:

_Anne tells Bill the small (size) news._

_Anne: There is something I have to tell you sweet-cheeks (term of endearment), we are expecting a/an arachnid (noun). Just think, a baseball bat (noun) half you and half me. I hope the huge (size) giraffe (noun) will have your kidney (body part), elbow (body part) and esophagus (body part) and my penis (body part) and toes (body part plural). Oh, what a fuzzy (adjective) day it will be when our super pooper (term of endearment for a baby) arrives._

_Bill: Oh, that is the hugest (superlative) news! I am so sad (emotion) that I won’t be able to stop frown (-ing) (facial expression) all day long. Just wait until I tell my dragons (plural noun)! They will all want to buy me a/an apple juice (beverage) and slap me on the nose (body part). Imagine me a/an seahorse (noun) at last. _

Then Anne handed Emma back to me so she could open our presents (although Julia promptly asked to hold Emma, which of course I agreed to, she is the grandmother after all).

Anne seemed to like my gift which had a matching thong. Eliza bought her a red bra and panty set, Julia a white short nighty with a matching robe, Dawson a leather-like bra and boy shorts, and her other friends bought her a teddy with a fake fur trim and a set of thong panties in several shades of pink and red. When Anne lifted up the panties, there was another package beneath them which turned out to contain a dildo. Anne exclaimed, “Oh wow!” and seemed a bit embarrassed.

Anne took a moment to pack all the gifts away in one bag and fold up the other bags before stuffing them inside the one bag too. I think she did this to regain her composure. Then she told us, “Thank you so much everyone! Bill will sure appreciate seeing me in all of these!”

Julia noted, while rocking Emma in her arms, “Now Anne, no modeling any of those for Bill before the wedding.” She is a proper sort that assumes everyone waits when almost everyone doesn’t.

“Don’t worry,” Anne replied, “The plan was always to save them for the honeymoon. With all these sexy items, I wouldn’t be surprised if I came back from Hawaii with a bun in the oven. We agreed to start trying right away. The timing should actually be great, as I am due to ovulate three days after the wedding and our trip is for a week.”

This was way more information than I wanted to know. But we all said the right things and then it was time to go. When Julia handed Emma back, she requested, “Please bring the family by soon; I’ve got to have more time cuddling this little one. She is the cutest thing,” and then to Emma in a high tone she said, “oh yes you are, oh yes you are, you are the most bea-u-ti-ful baby, you look just like me, oh yes you do!”

If Julia wanted to take credit for Emma’s looks, I had no particular objection. She is a handsome woman even now. Rich definitely takes after his father.

When I got home, I told Rich all about the shower. When I got to the part about Anne wanting to try for a baby right away, his face got red and he began to pace. “I don’t want him knocking up Anne.”

I tried to soothe him, “They’ll be married; you should have seen her with Emma, she really wants this, I am sure.”

“She’s just . . . she’s been sickly her whole life. We just lost Aunt Catherine. I don’t want to lose my cousin, too.” He stopped his pacing in front of me.

“She’s been doing better, though, in the last few years, right?” I tried to reassure him. “Women have babies all the time.”

December passed quickly with all the holiday preparations for Christmas and several family gatherings. Before I knew it, the month was almost over and it was time for the wedding.

On New Year’s Eve, Rich and I attended the wedding along with all of Anne’s and Bill’s relatives. Rich had talked about skipping the whole thing, but I kept insisting, “I’ve got to have you there to dance with me. I don’t want to just sit around while everyone else is dancing. I don’t want to get a sympathy dance from Fitz or Mr. Collins.”

In the end Rich went, but I think it had less to do with dancing with me and more to do with the fact that it was just the right thing to do given how little family Anne had left. It wouldn’t have been nice for him to skip when he didn’t even have a real excuse and I had already RSVPed for us.

The wedding, with reception to follow, was held at the de Bourgh mansion, with Anne generously providing babysitters on-site. After we left the children next door (after making sure that the sitters had my cell phone number and Rich’s cell phone number, telling them they were to text me immediately if Emma cried for more than a minute and telling them that I would be back around seven to feed her either way) we entered the ballroom. A lot of work must have gone into making it suitable as the last I had seen it had been used as nothing more than a storeroom. Tables were set up to one side and chairs for the ceremony on the other side, with a flower archway made of white lilies and variegated ivy to frame the couple.

The ceremony was simple and quick. Bill was wearing a tux and kept mopping at his forehead with a handkerchief until Anne appeared on Rich’s father’s arm in the doorway and paused. That made sense of course, Matt was her uncle, but Rich had not mentioned that his father would be escorting her.

I had known that Georgiana would be playing the piano for the ceremony. While Anne could have hired a whole orchestra, she had told Eliza, “I like the idea of having my cousin play; it just seems more personal.”

Georgiana began playing the wedding march on a baby grand piano and we all stood and watched as the bride came forward. Anne was wearing a sleeveless sweetheart gown in a mermaid shape, her mother’s pearl earrings, necklace and bracelet and a veil with pearl accents around the edging. She carried a bundle of white lilies.

There were no readings or songs after Bill accepted her from Matt. There was just a quick recitation of the usual vows. If anyone had left just before to use the restroom, they might have missed the entire thing.

I had feared that Bill might be making his own vows, which would had kept us there all night, so I was rather relieved when they were pronounced married, exchanged a quick smack of a kiss, and left to take pictures. They left so quickly in fact that Georgiana seemed confused as to whether she should complete the recessional song after they were gone and ended it abruptly.

The rest of us had a cocktail hour while the tables were pulled out, the chairs rearranged, and a band set up. Unfortunately, as I was breastfeeding, I only had a sip of Rich’s drink, while he was free to indulge as we were staying in a room upstairs in the mansion that night.

At the reception, Fitz, Eliza, Rich and I, along with Matt and Julia were all seated at the same table with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet who apparently had been invited as Bill’s closest relatives. Bill came to our table at the reception and solemnly reassured us, "I am going to do my best to care for Anne as her mother would have wanted."

It was clear to me that the Fitzwilliams must have heard about the rumor from someone, while the Bennets had not a clue. The rest of us all tried our best not to laugh at Bill’s words.

Julia’s lips were pressed so tightly together that they were hardly visible at all and Matt stared resolutely down at the table rather than look at Bill. As for me, I dug my fingernails into my hand under the tablecloth and tried my best to look pleasant. I was too busy trying to keep myself under control to see what anyone else at the table was doing.

Of Anne’s family, it was left to Rich to reply. He said, “That is good to hear.” Bill kept talking and talking after that, it was a whole lot of nothing with him mostly talking about how fortunate he was in his bride, which I tuned out while composing myself.

After Bill left to visit the next table, Mrs. Bennet commented, admiration brimming in her tone, “Bill will be a wonderful husband, I am sure.” She then reasoned, “Of course, he’s had some preparation. Being a butler must be a little bit like being a devoted husband, always catering to your boss’s every need.”

Eliza choked on her water and Fitz had to pound her on the back.

Rich then leaned over and whispered to me, “It look all my will power not to tell Bill, ‘Go easy on Anne, no killing her, too.’ I mean I’ve considered that all that stands between Bill and the de Bourgh fortune is frail Anne.”

His timing was impeccably good or bad depending upon how you look at it, as he caused me to laugh mid-drink, causing water to be forced out my nose and onto my plate. Fortunately, I was almost done with my roast beef as there was no eating any more of it after that. My in-laws politely ignored my display but from the gleam in Mr. Bennet’s eye, I could tell he was trying to figure out what exactly what was behind our reactions. He noted, “Usually women don’t have so much trouble drinking water.”

I knew Mr. Bennet enjoyed making sport of his neighbors and there was an awful lot to make sport of if Eliza could be worked upon to reveal it all (although I doubted she would ever betray Fitz’s confidence in such a way). But if Mr. Bennet could somehow work it out on his own . . . once he knew he would be unable resist explaining the whole of it to his wife and if his wife knew, so would the entire town and beyond. I imagined the Facebook posts and tweets she would write, the neighbors she would visit, the random strangers she would discuss the matter with at the grocery store or salon.

Fortunately, I had an excuse to duck out as I had to feed Emma. I had planned ahead and was wearing a stretchy dress which allowed me to pull down the neckline to nurse her. When I returned, I was just in time to see Bill’s first dance with Anne.

Boy was it awkward. How difficult can a waltz be? It is all one-two-three, one-two-three, but sometimes Bill seemed to add in a “four” and more than once he stepped on her feet. Anne tightened her jaw at that but did not grimace despite the obvious pain. I had a feeling that she had rehearsed not appearing to be hurt. I wondered at them not simply holding each other and swaying like couples did in slow dances back in high school.

Then the rest of us danced. It was fun, although I didn’t move as well as I normally would have. I still had some baby weight after all, and the torpedoes on my chest were pretty huge which made me feel awkward.

During a slow dance in which I swayed in Rich’s arms, fully content to be enjoying my time with him, he asked me, “Do you think Anne will be happy?” he inclined the top of his head in Anne’s direction. I glanced over at her and saw that her head was pressed against Bill’s neck, with her eyes closed.

“She looks happy now. But long-term? I don’t know. I hope so.”

While we took breaks, we danced until my breasts started leaking and I had to go feed Emma again. After that was done, we decided it was time to excuse ourselves from the reception. While many of the guests planned to stay for the midnight kiss and the fireworks display that was to follow, we were more than ready to get ourselves and our children to bed.


	6. Reboot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte sees a whole new set of videos with a new format, which star Anne and Bill Collins.

Two months after the wedding, I got an alert that there was a new video from the channel SexyMamaHottieCooks4You. Naturally, I had to watch it. I expected it to just be the farewell video Anne had discussed.

It began with a disguised Anne, a heart-shaped pink mask covering her eyes and nose. I noticed that she was wearing what appeared to be the baby-doll nighty I had given her, but it was covered by an apron, so not much of it could be seen. The mask and colors seemed apropos as it was close to Valentine’s Day. Anne said, “Hello to all the fans of SexyMamaHottie. I’m SexyMamaHottie’s daughter. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but last year my mother passed away. I finalized her final video and I know she would join me in thanking you for all of your support. Enjoy and watch to the end to see what is next for this channel.”

Next, Ms. de Bourgh came on the screen, concealed by an elaborate mask composed of peacock feathers, a large one in the middle rising above her head. She seemed in unusually good spirits as she talked about desserts and cooked a caramel sauce and a chocolate sauce. Later, she dipped apple slices in the sauce and strawberries in the chocolate sauce and ate them with a sort of glee. It wasn’t one of her better videos or one of her worst ones.

At the end, Anne came back on the screen. She said, “Thank you so much for watching my mother’s final episode. In the two years that she was filming, I believe she was far happier than she had been for much of her life. Getting to share her passion with you, well she lived for it. I’m not the cook she was, but I have some ideas for a future video series tentatively entitled, ‘Playing with your Food,’ and hope to post episodes sometime in the next few months, we shall see. Please honor my mother’s memory by sharing good eats with those you love. Signing off as the new Sexy Mama Hottie.”

The camera panned back to reveal a dish of melted chocolate sauce and a plate of strawberries. A man wearing a huge cat mask (it was a whole, enormous head in black), over a white polo shirt which contained a rounded belly and khaki pleated pants, approached. It could only be Bill Collins.

Bill dipped a strawberry in the sauce and brought it towards Anne’s lips. I expected her to eat it, and indeed she opened her lips to receive it. However, at the last moment, he used it to draw a chocolate line from her bottom lip all the way down to where the nighty disappeared under her apron (although by the time he was past her throat, the chocolate was long gone as he rotated the strawberry to get every dark bit upon her). As he drew on Anne, she threw back her head and moaned. Then the video screen faded to black and the words appeared in white, “In loving memory of Sexy Mama Hottie” with the years of Ms. de Bourgh’s life (without the month or day). listed below that.

Naturally, I immediately called Eliza on the phone and told her all about the new video. I tried to get her to watch it, but this time she told me, “I am just not going to go there. I would really like to forget all about it. Going to the wedding knowing what we knew and what else might be true, I just can’t. I mean, Bill is my cousin and Anne is too, so I know they will be in our lives forever, their kids will play with ours someday.”

I also told Rich all about the video and he watched it with me. Afterwards he commented, “That was disturbing; I couldn’t look away but I am never watching these videos again.”

I felt no compunction to refrain. As I was subscribed to the channel. I got alerts each time a new video was posted. And so, it was that I noticed the gradual transformation from sexy food play to another sort of video.

No, get your mind out of the gutter, they never did post sex tapes! Instead, it became a kind of review show. Letters would flash on the screen naming a sexual technique or game and then Anne and Bill would describe what it entailed, what they thought of it and if they would recommend it. And so, they went from food play, to discussing all sorts of sex play. Occasionally, I would give Rich updates on what I was seeing.

On an episode entitled “Edging” they discussed Anne getting Bill close to the end with her hand, then making him wait, only to torment him again. Bill was wearing a purple dinosaur head that reminded me of Barney and just regular clothes with it, while Anne was not dressed nearly as modestly as Bill. Anne was wearing a jeweled mask in the shape of a butterfly and a white leather (it looked like the real thing and not some kind of pleather) bustier and lacy white (but fortunately lined) small underwear which I thought was likely a thong (although of course I couldn’t be sure without seeing the back of it).

Bill said, “I never knew that not getting to have sex could make things even better, but I end up thinking about it all the time, wanting it, and will do anything she wants in the meantime.”

Then Anne discussed how powerful making her lover wait made her feel. In listening to Anne talk about their edging techniques and seeing her outfit, it took me a while to notice that something was different with her. In the strip of bare skin between where the bustier cut out above her belly button and her underwear, I observed what I thought was a little pooch. It could have just been that the bustier was laced too tight or it could be . . .

I ran to talk to Rich and told him, “There is another tape and I think Anne is pregnant!”

He hurried with me to where I had paused the You Tube video. I pointed to the spot in the still frame. “Don’t you think?”

Rich looked and said, “Maybe.” But then he must have noticed what Anne was wearing as he said, “I can’t be looking at my cousin in something like that. Seriously, you’ve got to stop watching these videos.”

I put my hands on my hips and responded, “I am a grown woman. I can watch what I like.”

“I know, I know,” Rich tried to appease me. “Fine, watch porn if you want to, but please don’t tell me about it. The way the show is headed at some point they will practically be doing it on screen.”

A month later, Anne asked us to join her and Bill for dinner. We went to a nice Italian restaurant, left the kids at home with a sitter. Anne and Bill were a few minutes late in meeting us and he apologized immediately, “I am so sorry we are late. I was just in the middle of dusting all the chandeliers when Anne told me it was time to go. I can be pretty single-minded when it comes to making sure things are perfect.”

“You still do the dusting?” Rich asked. I was wondering the same thing. Yes, Bill had done that as Ms. de Bourgh’s butler, but I hadn’t thought he would still be doing that now.

“Oh yes” Anne responded. “I don’t pay him to do it, of course, but Bill can’t bear to have anyone else do his duties.”

“Yes, no one else seems to be able to do it to the proper way, not even Dawson. Don’t get me wrong, she does a great job with the things she did before, but she can’t do what I did just as well as me, so it is better that I just do it myself,” Bill explained. “It isn’t just the dusting; it is everything else I used to do for Ms. de Bourgh and now for Anne. It makes me happy to get the silverware polished just right, to have the house perfect for her.”

“It is like I have a house husband,” Anne added, “if a house-husband were a professional butler.” She leaned over and kissed him. Then he turned toward her and kissed her back.

I had thought from the videos that Bill and Anne seemed happy but eating with them I saw every confirmation of it. They were always smiling at the other, checking the other person’s reaction to something someone else said, and touching each other in little ways. Bill even insisted that Anne try a bite of his Chicken Parmesan, straight off his fork.

Bill couldn’t stop praising Anne and I could not help but be reminded of how he had always praised Ms. de Bourgh. All of this would have been cute if it hadn’t been Bill and Anne.

Anne told us over dessert (I had the tiramisu), “I’m expecting. We just got through the first trimester and the baby is due in late August.” 

Of course, we said all the right things, congratulated them, told them they’d be great parents, told them all the things you say in that situation even if you are not sure it is the truth. I also offered to help Anne with any pregnancy related stuff, told her “I’ll tell you the real scoop, not the sanitized crap that the parenting magazines tell you.”

If I had thought pregnancy might deter Anne from making her videos, I would have been wrong. In her next video, which was all about discussing oral (both his and hers and the particular number that makes teenage boys and girls giggle), at the end she mentioned, “As some commenters have noted, I have a little something extra here,” she patted herself on the slightly rounded spot beneath her belly button. “Sexy Mama Hottie is excited to tell you all that I am expecting a baby. Who knows, if it is a girl, in a couple of decades she might be Sexy Mama Hottie number three.”

In the episodes that followed, Anne seemed to be perfectly happy to prance around in skimpy outfits and let her belly hang out between the tops and bottoms. Her pregnant belly was on full display while her face was always concealed by her partial mask: a glittery white one with snowmen on it; swirly fake ivy that wrapped around her head, too, and looked like Anne might have made it herself; a red fox with darker fur on the edges. Each time her mask was different; there were no repeats for her or Bill. 

I continued to have periodic interactions with Anne in real life. Those interactions were only notable for how ordinary they were.

Eliza and I jointly hosted a baby shower for Anne. She had earlier disclosed she was expecting a little girl, so our decorations and everything else was in various shades of pink.

One game we played was blindfolded diapering and dressing of teddy bears. Julia won that contest hands down. Apparently, you never lose that skill even if your children are all grown.

We also played the “guess that baby food game.” Anne’s childless friends did not do well at all.

Anne seemed meek and demure, wearing a conservative dress with a high neckline. If someone had told me she was hosting a sex advice show, well I would not have believed it myself.

In July, Anne said, “Before we start the regular show, I am going to share a recent review and offer some advice. She read:

_Dear Sexy Mama Hottie,_

_I love how you are so comfortable in your own body even as it changes. Women can be sexy and confident at any age and in any condition. I need some advice and I am not sure who else to ask. My wife had a double mastectomy after learning she carried the genetic mutation that almost guarantees breast cancer. It has changed her entirely and I am not sure what do to._

_Sure, it sucks that she doesn’t have breasts, but I am so glad we don’t have to worry about her getting breast cancer anymore like what took her mom and I don’t love her any less. She is more than just her breasts or lack thereof. I want her to be comfortable in her own body, but she’s so self-conscious now. She doesn’t want me to see her without her prostheses. As you might expect, this makes any kind of intimacy awkward. I don’t want our relationship to be all about what she doesn’t have any more. What should I do?_

_Craig_

Anne responded, “That’s a tough one, Craig. I may look confident on the screen, but this mask I am wearing makes things easier as I can pretend to be someone else. If you haven’t already shared with your wife what you’ve shared with me, I advise that you talk to her about all of this. But assuming you have already done that, you may need to give her time, time for her to be confident that you are in this for the long haul.

“She has lost something and may need time to mourn that. She might benefit in some counseling, both solo and couples, too. Unfortunately, I don’t have any easy answers. If any of my viewers have advice for Craig and his wife, please comment and hopefully he will see those.”

In August, Anne had a whole show entitled “Pregnancy Fetish.” Then she and Bill discussed his own personal obsession with her “Earth Mother” body. Bill, who was hidden behind a whole stuffed animal chicken mask this time, the yellow legs dangling down on either side of his neck, with no obvious holes, piped up “There is nothing sexier than my pregnant lover, and tasting the golden milk from her breasts.”

Anne noted, “That’s called colostrum. But doctors advise that a woman’s breasts not be stimulated too much before she is at term, so as not to induce labor, but I’ll tell you that when I reach nine months that my lover will be free to suck my breasts as much as he wants.”

At the end of the show she warned, “Ladies, while many men want to admire their lover’s bountiful body swelling with her child, adore her larger breasts and extra curves,” Bill was rubbing his hands over her pregnant belly as she spoke, “there is a disturbing subset of men who abuse their pregnant lovers.”

Bill withdrew his hands and stayed standing beside her. He said, “I would never do that, and don’t know anyone who would. In this time in my lover’s life, all I want to do is adore and protect her.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Lover,” Anne turned toward Bill (giving whoever was working the camera a side view of her which gave me a view of one buttock, showing she was indeed wearing a thong) and patted him on the shoulder before turning back toward the camera.

Anne continued, as if addressing the viewers personally. “It is a known phenomenon that there are men who have never been abusive before that start when their lovers are pregnant. If that is you, don’t put up with it for a second. It gets worse after it starts, and it won’t stop without intervention. As an expectant mother, you need to keep both yourself and your baby safe.” Then the screen listed numbers to call for help with abuse.

I read the comments from that show a few days later. I was amazed by how many comments there were. Most of them were from women, thanking her for helping them be confident in their altered bodies.

But one note was different. A woman wrote:

_Thank you so much Sexy Mama Hottie. You might have saved my life. My boyfriend was always so loving and sweet that when I got pregnant, I was confident he’d be a great dad. But things changed after that. I don’t know if he was resentful about his upcoming responsibilities or what, but after we moved in together, he seemed to be able to fly off the handle at just about anything._

_A month ago, I hadn’t loaded the dishes and he started throwing them at me! One broke and cut me. Then last night he punched me after he searched through my phone. He accused me of cheating on him. I had exchanged a couple of messages with an old friend from high school, but it wasn’t anything. He got me in the stomach and blackened an eye._

_I went to my sister’s apartment for the night but planned to go back after he cooled down. She didn’t want me to do that. She was inputting searches in Google, trying to find a way to convince me, and she came across this video. She showed it to me as a sort of random funny thing._

_We liked how free you are about being pregnant and confident. But then when we got to the end and heard your warning, well it convinced me that he’s not going to change, that I have to protect my child. I called one of the numbers and the next day I was filling out a form to get a temporary restraining order._

_It is scary to be pregnant and have the dad out of the picture, but my sister says she’ll help me, and it will all be okay._

A couple of weeks later, Anne had her baby, a little girl they named Catherine Anne. I saw the announcement on Facebook along with the typical pictures in such a situation. I wondered if she planned to take some sort of maternity leave from posting videos, but the next video showed up four weeks later.

Anne was wearing a see-through red baby doll that showed her still rounded body. Bill, who was wearing a Donald Trump mask, talked about how frustrating it was to want his wife and have to refrain while she healed, then he said, “I had a certain fantasy that would still work without making any demands on her cooch, but I was a bit embarrassed to ask Sexy Mama Hottie what I wanted. But I finally worked up the courage last week.

“You see, I wanted to nurse alongside our daughter, to get milk from my lover. While we’ve tried lots of things together, this was different.”

Anne responded then, “I was a bit surprised by my lover’s request. While playing with my tatas and even suckling them a bit has been part of our lovemaking since the beginning, it somehow seemed different to me now that my breasts were functional, for feeding my daughter rather, than just decorative. But I shouldn’t have been surprised, I mean we even had that video when we talked about him sampling my colostrum. So, when I gave it some thought, I decided, why not give it a try?”

Bill said, “My lover was so indulgent of me. She sat up in bed, our daughter in a football hold on her left side, my head on her lap on the right. She attached our daughter, then unlatched her nursing bra on the right and milk was already dripping down that breast. I licked the drips and they were sweet and warm, not like cow’s milk at all. I suckled a little and soon enough milk was flowing into my mouth and I had to swallow, swallow, swallow. It was wonderful, beautiful.

“I didn’t get to nurse as a baby, I just got a bottle back then. But even if I had, I wouldn’t have remembered it. But this experience was really pleasant, nice. I’m not going to do this all the time, I wouldn’t want to deprive our daughter of her share, but I’m glad I decided to ask for what I wanted. I’ll have that special memory forever.”

“And I am glad he asked,” Anne responded, laying a hand on Bill’s shoulder, a slight smile on her lips. “I think the key to a good relationship is all about communication. When I nurse my daughter, I feel this pleasant relief but also accomplished, that I can give her all she needs. I think all of that time bonds us in a way that bottle feeding may not.

“Please don’t take this as a criticism of mothers who do not nurse. Lots of moms have reasons why nursing may not work for them, but I know that I am glad to be able to do it. But my lover nursing, it felt good but also it was kind of hot.” She licked her lips then and even though Bill was well hidden behind that Trump mask, I was pretty sure from the way he was angled that he was watching as she did that.

Anne and Bill discussed further how the arrival of their daughter had changed their lives and at the conclusion Anne noted, “A lot of you have wanted to see our daughter. She gestured to someone and a form walked in front of the camera with a pink bundle.

Anne grabbed the wrapped bundle from the woman who was wearing a ladybug mask and wearing a dress that I knew I had seen before. It had a white polka dotted design on dark blue fabric. I paused the video then and considered who it could be. Then I knew. I had seen Dawson wear that very dress to Lady Catherine’s gravestone ceremony.

I started the video again. Anne held up the baby, whose back was turned to the camera. The baby was dressed in a pink sleeper and was wearing a floppy white hat with pink and yellow flowers. “This is Little Hottie the third.” She pulled Catherine against her and swayed back and forth, the baby blocking one side of her in her ice blue bra.

Every month I watched whatever video Anne and Bill posted. They continued to discuss sexual practices, give advice to other and little bits of parenting advice made their way into the videos as well. I noted that Anne and Bill always seemed happy and that Anne always seemed to be the picture of health.


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ending showing how Anne's videos have helped the others.

I didn’t tell Rich about the videos I kept watching, but in hearing all about what Anne and Bill tried, I was inspired to be a bit more adventurous myself, a little freer in sharing what I want. It is all good.

Rich turned out to really like edging, and for me to walk around naked save for black high heels and to order him to lick me.

A couple of years later Elizabeth and I got together at her house. We sent the guys off with the kids, to take them to the aquarium. Emma was newly weened and could be kept happy with her sippy cup, so I didn’t feel like I had to go with them. I planned to enjoy my new found freedom for at least a couple of more years.

Elizabeth, who was then expecting her second child, told me “I just don’t feel pretty anymore in this big round body.”

I asked, “Is Fitz not into you when you are pregnant?” I was wanting to understand whether it was he or she that was at the root of the issue.

“No, that’s not it at all. He wasn’t put off last time and if anything, I think he finds it sexy. It’s me. This time I just feel so much bigger, clumsy, ugly.”

I responded, “You look fine to me, just look normally pregnant. You are a lot smaller than I was with the twins, but even with Emma I am pretty sure I was larger than you by seven months.”

“But I don’t feel fine.”

“I have an idea of something that would help you, but you need to keep an open mind.” She consented, so I pulled up the SexyMamaHottieCooks4You channel and found some of the videos where Anne was heavily pregnant but still confident and dressed in skimpy lingerie.

“Do you see, pregnant women can still be sexy. What we need to do is get you some good lingerie, so you feel pretty, too. If I know you, you are probably wearing granny panties now and some big flannel nightgown to bed instead of something cute.”

So rather than stay at her house, I took Elizabeth to the big adult sex store that was five stops down on the interstate and we found some fun things for her. She even brought the silly banana underwear for Fitz (he got off lucky, she had pondered some ridiculous get-up that was a unicorn head with the horn a stretchy thin fabric for a guy’s ding-dong).

We didn’t talk about this issue again, but she seemed happier when we did talk, so I imagined it had done the trick. Elizabeth was not the last person I recommended should watch Anne’s show, but she was the last one who knew who it was behind the masks.

I never did find out the truth for sure about Bill Collins and Ms. de Bourgh. I felt the odds were about even as to whether they had been lovers. As the years passed, I made my peace with their possible association as did Rich and the rest.

On the days when I am certain they were a couple, I like to think that if Bill was servicing Ms. de Bourgh in such a way, that it was not merely as an employee acting under obligation, but because he really cared about her.

As for Bill and Anne, on the occasions when I see them at family gatherings, they seem devoted to each other. Bill is always praising Anne to anyone who will listen, just as he had always done when working for Ms. de Bourgh.

While I think Rich is just as devoted to me as Bill is to Anne, we like to keep our devotion to each other private. It is not everyone who can be brave enough to tell the whole world what they do in their bedroom.

The End.


End file.
